Page 98 of Taming the Boss

Me, Maddie Masterson, soon to be Maddie Masterson-Hamilton, which holy shit, what a mind twister that was. On top of that, I was five months pregnant with our baby girl. Who I now had a photo of to give to Jude as his wedding present from me, which hey, no shopping.

I could admit to being a bit shopped out now that we were outfitting a nursery too.

But our girl was super cute, even though in my mind, all babies were cute. But it was different when it was yours. I’d been told that over and over these past few months, and I’d smiled and nodded, not really believing it since Owen was now mine too, as much as if I’d given birth to him myself.

Until we’d heard her heartbeat on the monitor. That had caused many tears, and not all were even mine.

Then when I was given this photo, cue the waterworks once more. I’d bribed them to slip it to me on the side so I could share it with Jude at the time of my choosing.

Which was today.

Our wedding day. And my mother was currently fussing with the flower crown she’d made by hand and setting it just so on my hair. Though I had to admit my stomach got a little fluttery when I imagined Jude lifting a veil—if I’d had one—for our first kiss as a legally wedded couple.

But I didn’t have one, so that would just stay a pleasant fantasy.

“Okay, stand straight, my girl. My only girl. Oh, dear.” My mom started dabbing her tears as Honey knocked on the doorjamb of the room I was getting ready in—at Hamilton Realty, no less.

Nope, this wasn’t weird at all. Right.

“I have a surprise,” she announced, producing a gauze length of sheer material that at first I thought might have been a train. Which would not work at all with my knee-length pale yellow gown. I knew plenty of people wore white while pregnant, or post-baby like Honey, but it wasn’t going to be me.

Not when my belly was already large.

“What is this?” I asked, rushing forward to give her a hug with the surprise between us. “Oh, wow, is this a veil?” I clapped a hand over my mouth as I looked at my still weeping mom. “Are you a mind-reader?”

Honey laughed. “Why? I knew it was kind of a risk, but hey, something borrowed since this is actually the one I wore. But that’s supposed to bring good luck to you and your marriage and maybe even fertility. Although you’re clearly good there, aren’t you, baby Esmeralda?” Lightly, she patted my belly and got a kick for her trouble. “Oh, she kicked me!”

“Esme’s very active today. Very.”

She’d actually kicked for the very first time just a few days ago when her daddy had been on his knees kissing my belly, something he did very often. And just as often he’d keep going downward, which I had no problem with at all. He was beyond ecstatic to get to experience every stage of my pregnancy in a way he had not with Melissa, so I shared every possible bit with him down to the not-so-fun symptoms as well, like 3 a.m. cravings and swollen ankles.

I lived to serve.

Esmeralda had been a joke between Jude and I since I’d first thought I was pregnant and now the name was sticking, although probably as Esme, not the full mouthful.

“Even the littlest girls get excited at weddings. And I’m not jealous you’re having a girl. No, I am not.” Honey worked on attaching the veil to my flower crown without damaging any of the handiwork my mom had done. A moment later, she stepped back into Reagan and clasped her hands together. “Perfect. Do you like it? Look at how perfect it looks, Rea.”

“It sure does.” Reagan nodded, running her fingers over Owen’s hair at her side. “He wanted to see.”

“Aww, there’s my boy.” Crouching was a little precarious now that my belly was messing up my center of gravity, but I managed it to see my best boy eye-to-eye. “Why aren’t you in your suit yet, Mr. Ring Bearer?”

“Daddy said I couldn’t get it dirty, so I had to wait because I was eating a donut from Aunt Honey.” He grabbed her swishy peach dress with his sticky hand. “Oops,” he said, sticking the incriminating fingers in his mouth.

Which explained the chocolate frosting all over his lips and cheeks.

“You’re lucky you’re so cute, Owen, because you’re a miscreant.” Reagan dragged him back down the hall, where his father scooped him up as I screeched and slammed the door shut, nearly knocking over Honey.

“You can’t see me! It’s bad luck for like 50 years!”

Even my mom laughed at that one. “Not sure it’s that many. Especially since most couples don’t last for even ten percent of that.”

I frowned. “Thanks, Mom.”

“Oh, not saying it for you two, even if Jude will be in his eighties by then.”

“Thanks, Mom!” he called through the door, making me get misty despite myself. He’d taken to my family with the conviction of the converted.

Lonely man to family man in several not-so-easy steps.

---